


Game On

by cnroth



Series: Bad Ensign on Voyager [5]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Bad Ensign, Discussions of sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Foreplay, Humor, Sex Games, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnroth/pseuds/cnroth
Summary: Harry feels bad for canceling a date. Seven suggests a way he can make it up to her.UPDATE 5/5: As requested, I have added a second chapter in which Seven and Harry actually play. Happy Bad Ensign Games, everyone!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Curator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bad Ensign](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604374) by [Curator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator). 



> Set in the middle of season seven. Consider this an alternative to “Human Error.” 
> 
> Thanks to Curator for creating this game, and to cheile for the beta work!

Seven of Nine was hard at work on a sensor upgrade when the astrometrics doors hissed behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as Harry ambled to her.  
  
“Need some help?” he asked.  
  
“I am capable of completing this procedure alone. However—“ she gave him a slight smile— “I would not object to your assistance.”  
  
He nudged her shoulder with his and smiled back. “Good.”

Her stomach fluttered. According to her research, the “butterflies,” as they were called, weren’t supposed to last for very long in relationships. Yet after four and a half months of dating Harry, that particular symptom had yet to resolve itself. When she brought it to the Doctor’s attention, he had assured her that individual cases could last for a very long time and that she shouldn’t worry.

Harry experienced them, as well. He suggested that it might be a symptom of their feelings for one another and that it was a good thing. She had since learned to appreciate the sensation.

For a while, she and Harry worked together on the sensor upgrade in amiable silence. When the work became less demanding of their attention, Harry took her hand. “Look, Seven, I’m sorry I had to cancel our date last night.”  
  
“Lieutenant Ayala was ill. You were needed on the bridge.”  
  
He tugged her away from the console so she could face him. “True. But I made a commitment to you, and then I broke it.”  
  
“Your commitment to the crew is more important. Without a command-qualified officer on the bridge at all times, a challenging situation could quickly lead to disorder.”  
  
Harry glanced at their joined hands. “I still feel bad about it.” His gaze returned to hers. “But Mike’s feeling better, and he’s taking my shift tonight. I’d like to make it up to you if you’re free.”  
  
The fluttering in her stomach increased. “I would enjoy that.”  
  
He smiled and his shoulders relaxed. “What would you like to do? It’s your choice since I’m the one who canceled last night.”  
  
Seven pondered this for a moment. Dinner was a given, of course, and he already knew her favorite dish. They had established a comfortable routine.

Perhaps it was time to disrupt the routine.

“I propose a game,” she said.

He cocked his head—a reaction that brought her pleasure. She had surprised him.  
  
“Any game in particular?” he asked.  
  
She inclined her head. “Yes. There is one I am told Starfleet cadets play at the academy called—“  
  
“Bad Ensign.” A blush crept into Harry’s cheeks.  
  
“Then you are familiar with the game.”  
  
He laughed. “I guess you could say that.”  
  
“Have you played it, as well?” she asked.  
  
“Well, sort of.” He laced their fingers together. “I didn’t play it while I was at the academy, but Tom made me play it on the holodeck once when he heard I’d never played it before.”  
  
“So you understand the rules of the game?”  
  
“It’s been a few years.” He gave a bemused smile. “But I remember.”  
  
She squeezed his hand. “Then it is settled. I will come to your quarters tonight and we will play.”  
  
Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Only if I get to be the captain.”  
  
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips—an involuntary reaction that happened quite frequently around Harry. “You assume you’ll be rewarded with sexual intercourse when you lose.”  
  
“Isn’t that how it works?”  
  
“It is not stated in the rules that copulation must commence in the event that the ensign character wins,” she teased. “I could simply leave.”  
  
His shoulders sagged. “Sounds like you’ve given this some thought.”  
  
“I have a great deal of experience with this game.”  
  
Harry spluttered. “What? When? With who?”  
  
“Ensign Jennifer Delaney was the first to introduce me to it five weeks after _Voyager’s_ encounter with the dream aliens.”  
  
He sighed and shook his head. “Of course she was.”  
  
“At the time, I merely wished to explore my humanity, so I agreed. Initially, she took on the role of captain, but she quickly found my attempts at flirtation frustrating and suggested that we switch roles.”  
  
He chuckled. “Ooh, poor choice.”  
  
Seven frowned. “Why?”  
  
“No way could she win that one.”  
  
She inclined her head. “You are correct. She failed to seduce me.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows. “How long did she last?”  
  
“Eighteen minutes, twenty-four seconds.”  
  
Harry whistled. “Damn. She is relentless.”  
  
“To an extent, perhaps,” she said, recalling the few who were even more persistent than Ensign Delaney. “She did manage to stay in the game longer than most of the others.”  
  
Harry chortled. “Yeah, I believe that. Who else?”  
  
Seven arched an eyebrow. “We would be here for quite a long time if I were to list out every member of the crew who proposed the game to me.”  
  
“Fair enough,” he said with a nod. “How many times did you play?”  
  
“Should I include rematches in the count as well?” she asked, angling her head to the side.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“In that case, I have played this game sixty-eight times.”  
  
He smirked. “So I’ll be sixty-nine?”  
  
Her amusement at the double entendre pulled again at her lips before she could stop it. “Yes, you will.”  
  
“Perfect.” He coiled his arms around her waist. “I’m curious, though. How many times have you played the ensign role?”  
  
“Thirteen.”  
  
“And how often have you left a defeated captain high and dry?”  
  
“Technically, not all of them were dry.”  
  
He snorted. “How often?”  
  
“A significant number of times.” She rested her hands on his chest. “Are you trying to ascertain whether I have engaged in sexual activities with anyone other than you, _Ensign_?”  
  
“Hey, it’s Captain to you. And no. I’m not the jealous type. I was just curious.” His thumbs drew circles on her back. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised you’ve played. You rarely seemed interested in dating or sex before you asked me out.”  
  
“It was merely a social experiment to better understand human sexuality and courtship rituals.”  
  
“That you ran sixty-eight times?”  
  
“You are well aware that a hypothesis must be tested multiple times before drawing conclusions.”  
  
An amused smile lifted his lips. “You’ve got me there.” He slid his hands along her arms, curled his fingers around hers, and brought her knuckles to his lips.  
  
Goosebumps prickled her skin. The gesture made her light-headed. Her throat spasmed and she cleared it. “We... should return to our sensor upgrade.”  
  
He squeezed her hands and held them to his chest. “One last question, then we can get back to work.”  
  
She inclined her head. “Very well.”  
  
“Have you ever lost a game?”  
  
“Once,” she said, another memory appearing in her mind.  
  
He grinned. “Really? To who?”  
  
“Captain Janeway.”  
  
His eyes widened. “You played Bad Ensign with Captain Janeway?”  
  
She nodded but didn’t elaborate.  
  
He waited expectantly for several seconds before asking, “Well? What happened?”  
  
“I believe the rule, ‘A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,’ applies here.”  
  
He groaned. “You’re killing me!”  
  
“If words alone can end your life, then you will most certainly not survive our game. I do not intend to lose tonight.”  
  
His pupils dilated. “That’s fine by me.”  
  
They should have gotten back to work, but she looped her arms around his neck and captured his lips with hers anyway. Their bodies pressed together, Harry’s hands sliding around her back. It was difficult to refrain from pursuing further pleasure in the moment, but she kept the kiss relatively short and chaste.  
  
When she pulled away, Harry tightened his grip. “You’re not planning on leaving _me_ high and dry when I lose, are you?”  
  
“You have exceeded the limit of your ‘one last question,’” she teased.  
  
“Just answer. Please?”  
  
The tingling sensation in her body increased as she visualized how their evening would end. “No, I am not planning to leave you ‘high and dry,’ as you put it. In fact, I intend on leaving you wet and on your back.”  
  
He grinned and brushed his nose against hers. “Game on.”


	2. Chapter 2

Wiping the table clean after dinner, Seven dropped the towel in Harry’s offered hand and flashed him a smile. “Thank you.”

His lips curled up in response. “Thank _you_ ,” he said before turning away.

As he recycled the last of their dishes, Seven rounded the table, slid her hands around his waist, and pressed her lips to the nape of his neck. “You wished to see me, Captain?” she said.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not even giving me a chance, are you?”

 _“Find ways to surprise them and put them on their back foot_ ,” Jenny Delaney had told her three years ago in regards to playing the ensign role. It was good advice.

Seven nipped at Harry’s earlobe. “I don’t understand the question. You called me into your office. I am simply reporting as ordered.”

He tapped the interface and the empty glasses dematerialized. “This definitely isn’t what I ordered, Ensign.”

“If that is the case, then tell me what you wish for me to do.”

“Well, for starters,” he said, slipping from her grasp, “you shouldn’t be touching me. It’s not professional.”

“Very well,” she said, inclining her head as she let her hands fall to her sides.

A slight frown crossed his face, likely confused by her response, but he neutralized it quickly. “And second…” He strolled around her, clasping his hands behind his back as he stopped in the center of the room. “I called you here to talk about your performance, so I think it’d be better if you listened.”

“I understand.” She shook her hair away from her face and mirrored his pose. “Which aspects of my performance do you wish to discuss?”

“Your gambling,” he said, facial expression remaining serious.

She stifled a laugh. “Gambling?”

“You heard me. I’ve been getting reports from other members of the crew that you’re swindling them out of replicator rations.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I am simply a bad ensign.” Loosening her hands, she drifted to him but did not touch. “A bad, bad, _very_ bad ensign.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” she said, dragging a hand up her body to play with a lock of hair that spilled over her shoulder. Harry had told her many times how much he enjoyed the occasions when she wore it down. “It is up to you to determine precisely how bad of an ensign I am.”

His eyes followed her movement, then flitted to her face. “Are there any other behaviors I should be aware of?”

“None, Captain.” She gave a sly smile. “Not yet. However, I must admit that I’ve had some bad thoughts as of late.”

His pupils widened, darkening his eyes. He must have wanted to ask, but he swallowed and lifted his chin. “That’s not really my concern as your captain.”

Dragging her lip between her teeth, she sauntered around him, the heels of her shoes making a muffled _clack_ with every step. “Do you not wish to know what bad thoughts I’ve been having? They involve you.”

A quick intake of breath. “No, Ensign. What you think about is your business.”

Coming to a stop before him, she teased a strap of her dress. “I had hoped it would become _our_ business.”

He raised his eyebrows. “If touching isn’t appropriate, that _definitely_ isn’t.”

“As I said, I’m a bad ensign.” Reaching behind her back, she dragged the zipper slowly down and shimmied out of the garment. She wore nothing underneath.

His eyes went wide.

“I do not care for what is _appropriate_.”

Harry’s gaze scanned her body, landing on her full breasts. He licked his lips.

“Would you like to touch me?” she asked.

“No,” he said, voice shaky as he looked again at her face. “If you think seducing me will keep you out of trouble, you’re wrong.”

She skimmed her stomach, rounding her breasts and gliding back down to her thighs. “If trouble is what brings me to you, then I would prefer to stay in trouble.”

His eyes were straying again, falling to her body and darting back up. “That isn’t a very Starfleet attitude.”

“So my thoughts _are_ your business.”

“I—“ He shook his head. “No, that’s not—“

Stepping out of the dress, she closed the space between them and pressed a finger to his lips. “Do not speak. You’re becoming anxious. Allow me to assist you.”

“Ensign—“

She slipped the first button of his shirt loose. “I will tell you about my bad thoughts.” Another button. “I think about your hands on my breasts, kneading them until my nipples are hard in your palms.” And another. “I think about your lips kissing my neck until you leave a mark.”

He trembled.

Two more buttons. “I think about your tongue exploring my skin with the same voracity you show while exploring spacial phenomena.”

“Ensign,” he protested weakly.

Her fingers moved quickly over the last two buttons, and she shoved his shirt back. Running her hands up his torso and around his neck, she pressed herself against him and went for the kill. “I think about your body joining with mine as we make love in the light of the stars.”

“This…” His voice was strangled as if he were forcing out the words. “If you don’t stop now, Ensign, I’ll have you confined to quarters.”

She smiled, amused by his resistance even as it failed him. If poetic language wouldn’t make him surrender, she knew what would.

“Then confine me to _your_ quarters, Captain.” Reaching for his slacks, she unfastened them and slipped her hands inside. “You will not regret it.”

Harry moaned as she stroked him, thrusting involuntarily into her hand.

Seven grinned.

“Damnit,” he muttered, and crushed his lips against hers. His tongue probed and she allowed him inside. His hands were feverish as they moved from one place to another with impressive speed.

She gasped when they grazed her abdominal implants, the skin between each metallic ridge more sensitive than almost any other spot on her body.

Almost.

As his hands settled there, fingers teasing her skin, she pushed his slacks from his hips. Soon his boxers joined them in a pile at his feet and he stepped out of it all, leaving his shoes behind with it.

She kicked off her heels and together they stumbled inefficiently to Harry’s bed, neither one willing to let go of the other. He nearly fell onto the mattress, dragging her with him as they crawled to the middle.

“I told you, Captain,” she said as she straddled his hips and sank onto him, “I am a _very_ bad ensign.”

He pulled her close and grinned. “Thank God.”


End file.
